


The Attempt

by Finely Honed (jaqen_hgar)



Series: Imagine Tony & Bucky [59]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Assassination Attempt(s), BAMF Bucky Barnes, Empathy, Established Relationship, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-15
Updated: 2015-09-15
Packaged: 2018-04-20 23:11:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4805726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaqen_hgar/pseuds/Finely%20Honed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <span class="small">Prompt: Imagine an assassin going after Tony in a public place/event with Bucky in attendance. Established relationship, please.</span>
</p>
<p>Bucky is convinced that people forget that he was a sniper before becoming the Winter Soldier. There are things about him that changed after the training he received, because he was a damned good sniper, thank you very much. It’s not just about shooting things from a distance, it’s observation, patience, and discipline.</p>
<p>The Winter Soldier wasn’t the person you sent on a reconnaissance mission, he was the weapon of mass destruction you unleashed upon an enemy. Bucky Barnes was the guy you sent when you needed someone to sneak behind enemy lines, gather intel, and sneak back out again all while <em>refraining</em> from taking a shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Attempt

Bucky is convinced that people forget that he was a sniper  _before_ becoming the Winter Soldier. There are things about him that changed after the training he received, because he was a damned good sniper, thank you very much. It’s not just about shooting things from a distance, it’s observation, patience, and discipline.

The Winter Soldier wasn’t the person you sent on a reconnaissance mission, he was the weapon of mass destruction you unleashed upon an enemy. Bucky Barnes was the guy you sent when you needed someone to sneak behind enemy lines, gather intel, and sneak back out again all while  _refraining_  from taking a shot.

A lot of what he did happened without him ever thinking about it, whether they’re in the field or not. Once you’re trained to be observant it is difficult to turn that off. He’ll scan wherever he is, looking for oddities, good places for cover, good vantage points. And then he keeps scanning, to see if anything has changed, mentally noting anything worth keeping track of.

Sometimes it stresses him out, but he’s had a lot of practice dealing with civilian crowds, and nowadays doing something like accompanying his boyfriend to a swanky fundraising event doesn’t result in him running off a half hour in.

Actually, he’s been to enough of these things with Tony over the last three years that he knows people’s names, can make easy small talk with them. He knows Tony gets a kick out of seeing him schmooze, mostly because he’s a charming son of a bitch when he wants to be, and people eat it up. Plus, he looks great in a suit.

The thing is, even now that he’s more comfortable at these functions, he still falls back on all his old training, eyes forever sweeping the room, even as he’s chatting it up with the well to dos, and snagging more champagne from a waiter.

They’re just getting to the part of the evening when most people are well lubricated from the free booze, conversation a little louder than it’d been the hour before, people more inclined to touch and flirt and try to sneak off somewhere.

Tony is in a small group across the way chatting with a Senator, but has been catching his eye for the last four minutes. They’re playing the “who can hold out longer” game, and Bucky is determined to win. He’s got money on Tony lasting another ten minutes tops before he wanders over, and uses a cheesy pickup line.

Bucky’s relaxed, actually having a good time, is looking at photos of Mrs. Crawford’s grandkids and thinking stupid, lovesick thoughts involving him and Tony and a couple kids of their own. But he’s still him, so as soon as the man shifts in the crowd, something in his body language sets off alarms bells in Bucky’s head.

He’s excusing himself on autopilot, is zoned in on the guy now. The target is nervous, sweat standing out on his brow as his eyes dart to and fro. Bucky follows his line of sight, and even before confirming his suspicions he already has a squirming sort of anger low in his guts. There’s a fifty-fifty chance this guy is scoping out the Senator, but Bucky just  _knows_ Tony is the target.

From where he is it is impossible to determine what the target is equipped with. His clothing isn’t bulky, which is good; probably not strapped with explosives. The way he’s holding himself, Bucky is leaning toward gun, but their lives are crazy enough that ‘gun’ might mean alien disintegrator ray, or something that opened a portal into another universe.

If they weren’t in a crowded room of civilians, and weren’t supposed to be heroes, Bucky would pull out his sidearm and put a round in this man’s head, then figure out what he was dealing with after the fact. Of course, there’s always the chance that this guy is a fan, and is armed with a phone, hoping to get a selfie with Tony—that happened way more often than Bucky liked. He might have overreacted and decked one or two of them way back when they’d first started dating. He still feels guilty enough over that, he doesn’t need innocent blood on his hands.

The target shifts, moving position, and Bucky ghosts him, eyes wide for any sign of him moving for a weapon. At the same time, he fishes out his phone.

“On your six, male, blond, brown eyes, blue suit, late thirties, five foot ten, medium build, possibly armed and moving to intercept.”

He says it in a calm, cool, detached flurry of Russian, and Bucky sees the line of Tony’s shoulders tense. “Uh, shit?”

“Recommend you excuse yourself, head for the bathrooms. Need to confirm you’re the target, then intercept. Hanging up now. Love you.”

“Love you, too,” he hears Tony say before the call is disconnected.

Tony smiles, projects _relaxed_ as he breaks off from the group. Sure enough, Bucky’s target shifts direction to follow, a bit of a sneer on his face. Based upon his observations, Bucky is willing to bet this is not a professional, and that Tony’s new fan is working alone. There is still the off chance that he is paparazzi, or perhaps even a process server, or something else entirely, so Bucky still has not drawn his weapon.

Discipline.

He wants to, though. Down under the layers of training, under the calm that always comes over him in a crisis situation, Bucky is seething. The part of him that remembers the grim, detached satisfaction of the Winter Soldier’s approach wishes to destroy whoever the hell this is. He’d rather do it with his hands, though, just tear him to pieces for even thinking of laying a finger on Tony.

You wouldn’t know it looking at him. His breathing is even, and although he appears serious, there is no outward sign that beneath the calm exterior he’s chanting, “make a move, make a fucking move, you piece of shit, give me an excuse.”

As if hearing Bucky’s plea, the man reaches into his coat, pulling out a pistol as Tony pushes his way into the men’s room.

“Holy shit!” Tony exclaims ten seconds later as the door opens again.

Bucky had sprinted forward, disarming the target even as he grabbed him by the throat, all but throwing him through the door of the bathroom, slamming him to the ground upon their arrival. Before the guy so much as opens his mouth, Bucky has decked him, has a knee on his chest pinning him to the ground, and shoves his bionic hand between the guy’s teeth, just in case he’s packing one of those oh so popular suicide capsules.

“Who is he?”

Bucky grins down into the face of his prey as he answers Tony’s question. “Lucky to be alive.”

The eyes widen, and disappointingly the guy begins to cry. Bucky snorts and begins fishing through his pockets with Tony’s help, but this guy—Albert Fischer, according to his expired driver’s license—isn’t putting up a fight.

“Take your hand out of his mouth,” Tony suggests softly, one of his own hands on Bucky’s shoulder. There is a relieved, panicked sound from Fischer as Bucky reluctantly complies. “Hey, Fischer. Any particular reason you wanted to shoot me?”

Out comes a string of almost hysterical babbling that Bucky can’t make sense of, something involving the Illuminati, and reptilian overlords. As he watches, Tony actually hands the guy a handkerchief for his bloodied nose, and gives Bucky a soft order to, “let him up.”

“What’s going on?” Bucky asks softly, but Tony just shakes his head.

“Okay, Albert—can I call you Albert?” Fischer nodded. “Albert, we’re going to make sure you get help. You don’t need to worry about the rest; we’re actually on your side. Nobody needs any sort of overlord, especially not reptilian.”

“You’re… But… they said you were involved, you brought them here! I saw the hole in the sky!”

Tony tenses at this. “I saw the hole, too, but I was closing it, not bringing anything through. Honest. Bucky’s going to protect you while I make some calls, and we’ll get to the bottom of it together.“ In Russian, Tony adds, "Hold onto his gun. He doesn’t need to deal with an attempted murder charge, he needs help.”

Which is how Bucky finds himself in a bathroom, his arm around the shoulders of a guy he’d just assaulted, talking quietly with him about how confusing the world was while waiting for a psychiatrist friend of Tony’s to show up.

This is why he is glad he’s Bucky Barnes, with his patience and discipline, because it would’ve been a real shame to shoot Albert first and ask questions later. His anger is long gone, empathy having taken its place, and when he finds himself standing with an arm around Tony’s shoulders as they say goodbye to Albert, he’s incredibly grateful his best friend and lover is the kind of guy he is.

“Well, that wasn’t how I thought the night would go,” Tony sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “At least no one was hurt.”

“We’re gonna visit him, right?” Bucky asks, giving Albert a little wave goodbye.

Tony smiles up at him, kisses him on the cheek, and nods. “Yeah, we’ll visit. Uh, thanks for having my back, by the way.”

“Always,” Bucky promises, and means it.


End file.
